Blue Skies and Freedom
by lydiamaartin
Summary: And all any of them want is to be free of expectations, to be allowed to simply be who they are and love who they want. Is that really too much to ask for? - FredIIOC


**Disclaimer: I own Madeline (Nott, daughter of Theodore Nott and Daphne Greengrass), but nobody else. Oh, and Liberty, I guess. The song belongs to Yellowcard.**

**For Mystii, who requested a FredOC with the prompts 'dance', 'feather', and the song 'Shrink the World'. Hope you like it, Myst!**

**

* * *

**_A life in love, a picture of  
a place I'm nowhere near  
a bleeding heart, a good headstart  
to anywhere but here_

See, he's supposed to be the prankster, supposed to be the boy who jokes and laughs and flirts with gorgeous girls like it's going out of style.

And, see, she's supposed to be the ice queen, supposed to be the girl who tosses her hair and bats her lashes and dazzles boys into her bed.

But, see, they're _not_ that and (maybe that's okay).

* * *

There's this little courtyard, hidden from view by a wall of greenery, and it's so very peaceful in there, with breezes flitting through and the sun always angling its shimmering beams atop the flowers that bloom in a million different colors, and this is the place she likes to call home.

Madeline slings her bag off her shoulders and begins to dance.

Away from her precious haven, she is the _ohso_cliché ice queen, all cornsilk curls and diamond-blue eyes and flirtatious smiles, luring boys in with a single bat of her eyelashes. She's the kind of girl who'll conform to expectations, because she's a pretty pureblood princess and that's just what pretty pureblood princesses _do_.

Except when she's here. In this little courtyard, she's _free_ – dancing and twirling to unheard music playing in the beat of her heart and the winds that float through. Here, she can let go of those damned expectations – the ones everybody in this generation has to worry about, don't you know, because they're the _children of heroes_ _(or villains)_ and they have to live up to that legacy – and simply _be_.

And here is where he finds her.

He's flying, soaring, swooping through clouds and skies on the hottest new broomstick, reveling in the feeling of wind on his face and sunlight in his eyes. Up here, forgotten by Earth, simply living in the sky, this is where _he's_ free. And isn't that all they're looking for, these kids, this boy and that girl – freedom? There's _too_ many expectations and _too_ much pressure and all any of them really want to do is be themselves.

(Is that too much to ask for?)

So, he sees her from high above, hovering beneath a cloud, his coffee-brown eyes searching the ground below and landing on her. She's still dancing – she's a dancer, that's what she _does_ – twirling and leaping and spinning around with a kind of rhythm that only comes from the heart.

And, yeah, it's a little bit cliché – boy meets girl, right? – but it's cliché for a _reason_, isn't it?

"What are you doing?" Fred asks, genuinely curious as he pulls his broomstick to a stop near her.

Madeline nearly stumbles in surprise. "I—what are you doing here, Weasley?"

Fred shrugs, impatiently brushing a golden-brown curl out of his eyes. "I'm flying, Nott. What does it look like?"

She crosses her arms defensively, already back to being the ice queen. "Well, I'm dancing. What does it look like?" she mocks.

He glances at her sidelong and something strange starts fluttering in her insides – something remarkably like butterflies, but she's not _that_ cliché (right?). "You're a good dancer."

The compliment is surprisingly sincere, and her blue eyes widen. "Oh. Um, thank you."

"You're welcome," he says with a sweet, dimpled smile, and Madeline begins to understand how he got his reputation as the nicest Weasley.

"You don't play Quidditch, do you?" she asks suddenly, breaking the silence out of a compulsive need to keep talking to him that even she doesn't understand. But who understands Weasleys, anyway? Nobody, that's who.

"No," Fred says amiably. "I don't."

"But you fly," she says, brow furrowed in confusion. "So why don't you play Quidditch?"

He smiles at her again, and she's also beginning to understand why he can so effortlessly charm girls into his arms. It's impossible to resist Fred Weasley. While he's not equipped with James's mischievous smile and infectious laugh or Louis's brilliant Veela charm and inhumane handsomeness, he's got an easy charm all his own and – oh, yes, (she's _falling_, isn't she?)

Oh, wait, problem – she's _Madeline Nott_, and she doesn't fall for Weasleys (just ask Louis).

"Because I like to fly," Fred answers, simply, honestly. "Why do you dance, Maddie?"

"Don't call me that," she snaps. "I just – I like to dance, is all."

He nods solemnly, as if she's uncovered some great secret. "Guess what? I like to fly."

Blue eyes narrow. "Are you making fun of me?"

Fred flashes her a grin – damn, there go those butterflies again. "Of course not."

Madeline takes a deep breath to control her Slytherin temper. "You're kind of impossible."

He laughs. "And you're kind of impossibly pretty."

And with that compliment ringing in the courtyard, he soars away into blue skies and white clouds and freedom, leaving behind a pretty pureblood princess wondering if she doesn't want to be a cliché.

* * *

The next time they meet, it's on _her_ terms (she likes everything to be on her terms, but he's not a boy she can really control, now, is he?).

"Taking a break from flying, huh?" Madeline asks, crossing the grassy threshold into the courtyard and gracing him with a trademark Slytherin smirk. "Where's your broom?"

Fred downs the bottle of water he'd been about to take a sip from when she had entered. "In my dorm, of course," he answers easily, unruffled as always. "I'm not always flying, y'know."

She hesitates, unsure of how to retort to that – it's easy to banter with boys like James and Louis, but Fred is different. "Oh. Well, then, what are you doing here?"

"I was looking for you," he admits, a bashful grin on his face. "Well, to be accurate, Louis is looking for you and he likes to send me out to do his dirty work."

Madeline raises an eyebrow. "And that doesn't bother you?"

Fred grins. "Well, it lets me spend time with you, doesn't it?"

"That's the oldest flirting technique in the book," she accuses, trying to battle down both her butterflies and a blush.

He lifts his hands in surrender, clearly trying not to laugh. "I'm not trying to flirt with you. Honest. Louis is the one in love with you, and I'm not going after a girl my cousin wants. That would be stupid."

Madeline stares at him for a moment, stumped. Fred Weasley is apparently the one puzzle she can't solve – and she's a _Slytherin_, so that doesn't sit well with her.

"Why are you so damn nice?" she challenges, walking forward, closer to him.

Fred shrugs, warm brown eyes fixed on her and making her dizzy. "I don't know. That happens when you grow up happy, I guess."

"Are you saying I didn't grow up happy?" she demands.

"I didn't say that," he points out validly, but she can see the beginning of a grin playing on his lips.

"You're awful," Madeline proclaims, smothering her giggles – just because he doesn't pull practical jokes doesn't mean he's not funny. "Have you ever had a girlfriend before? That's not how you're supposed to flirt with girls, Fred Weasley."

Fred grins. "I have, actually, thanks. And I know how to flirt with girls. What makes you think I'm trying to flirt with you? Like I said, until Louis stops chasing you, you're off limits to any Weasley boy."

She tilts her head, frowning. "That doesn't seem very fair. And – what girlfriends? I've never heard anything about you having a girlfriend, and my gossip network runs through the whole school!"

"Oh, no," he laughs. "That's for me to know, Little Miss Gossip, and you to never find out."

"That's not fair!" Madeline pouts, sparing a moment to wonder when she reached the bantering level of friendship with him. "C'mon, I want to know!"

"I'll see you around, Maddie," Fred calls over his shoulder as he turns around and begins to walk away. "Bye!"

His voice is almost sing-song, and it makes those thrice-damned butterflies blaze in her stomach as she watches him go with a sigh.

He'd called her 'Maddie' again.

Boys are stupid.

* * *

There's a bird in her hands and _Louis Weasley_ stamped all over her heart the next time they meet.

"I see you gave into Louis," Fred notes, stilling his broom until he's hovering right in front of her, warm chocolate eyes into stormy seas blue. "Smart choice."

Madeline huffs, head bowed over the baby bird cradled delicately in her heads. "Get lost, Weasley. I'm not in the mood for your games."

"Are you ever?" he grins, dismounting and sauntering over with all the confidence any normal Weasley has (oh, but he's not any normal Weasley, is he?). "I was just wondering why you weren't dancing."

"I don't dance every waking moment, you know," she snaps. "And I found this bird. It was injured. Couldn't fly."

Fred observes her in silence for a moment as she coaxes the baby bird to look up at the bright skies. Then he bursts out laughing. "I never would have pegged you for the baby bird cliché, Maddie."

Her head snaps up, diamond-blue eyes narrowing. "I am _not_ a cliché!"

"Aren't you? I mean, seriously, healing a baby bird? If there's a more cliché way for the ice queen to show the cracks in her walls, I haven't heard of it."

"Shut up," Madeline mutters. "Here, you want to see how cliché this is for yourself?" Without allowing him a chance to answer, she stands and thrusts out her hands, the bird making a few feeble chirps as it comes beak-to-chest with Fred.

"Um." Fred stares down at the bird. "Sure."

Clumsily, he takes the bird from her hands, cradling it with an adorably careful kind of grace. Madeline almost smiles but – oh, yeah, she's dating Louis for some reason she can't remember and he's still Fred Weasley, remember, and they don't _do_ this.

"It's pretty," he says in wonder, touching its light blue feathers as the bird chirps some more. "Did you give it a name?"

She shrugs. "Should I have?"

Her spell decides now is an appropriate time to take effect, and the bird's wing become fully-healed in an instant. With a chirp of delight, it takes off into the sky, soaring around in a way rather reminiscent of Fred himself, she thinks.

"I think you should call it Liberty," says Fred, head tilted towards the sky, a thousand dreams reflected in those coffee-brown eyes of his as he watches the bird's flight. "For freedom."

"Liberty it is," Madeline says, and then she realizes something very important.

He's standing _really_ close.

Oh, and his lips are _right_ there.

(And she's dating Louis – and who's brilliant idea was that, anyway?)

Their lips meet, the world shrinks, and fireworks explode.

* * *

Three meetings.

Three _bloody_ meetings and suddenly she's irreversibly in love with the guy?

Love doesn't work that way!

"Who is he?" Louis asks wearily when she tells him she wants to break up. He looks like he's been expecting this – about a month is the norm for his relationships, after all. And her's, too, come to think of it.

"I—" Madeline inhales, exhales, and tries to regain some of her old icy glamour. "None of your business."

Louis searches her face for something. "It's one of my cousins, isn't it?"

She falters. "How—how did you—?"

"It always is," Louis says with a wistful smile. "See you around, Nott."

He wanders away, and she thinks it's kind of pathetic how utterly _simple_ it is. Where's the drama, the heartbreak, the chaos that comes with a broken relationship?

Maybe he was just the wrong shade of Weasley for her.

* * *

"You broke up with him," Fred says, astonishingly calm the next time they meet in that little courtyard. He's got his broom tucked under his arm, his golden-brown curls irresistibly messy in the windy day, and in the sunlit afternoon he's all freedom and flying and blueblue skies and, damn it all, this _isn't supposed to happen_.

"I did," Madeline says, stopping her dance and coming face to face with him. "What about it?"

His skin's practically glowing chocolate brown in the sunlight, she notes absently, dizzily, hardly able to breathe with him in such close proximity.

"Why?" Fred demands, shifting his weight from one leg to the other. "You guys had all the cliché going for you – "

"You don't like clichés," she points out.

"True," he admits. "But sometimes they work. Look at Teddy and Victoire, or Lily and Lorcan."

"But sometimes they don't," she counters. "Look at my dearest cousin and his – Rose, was it? Didn't they have a messy break-up just last year?"

Fred sighs. "Whatever. I'm tired of playing games, Maddie. Why did you kiss me back then?"

"Excuse me?" Madeline crosses her arms in indignation. "_You_ kissed _me_."

He frowns. "Did not."

"Did too!"

"Did not!"

"Did too!'

"Did not!"

"Did t—"

He kisses her, and it's all butterflies dancing in her stomach and fireworks exploding in her mind and the world shrinkshrink_shrinking_ until it's just her and him and maybe it's a little bit cliché, simply because here they are just a boy and a girl under blue skies without expectations weighing them down.

Here, they are free.

_If I could, then I'd shrink the world tonight  
so that I would find you and me inside  
of the last good scene, a film that changes things

* * *

_

**Author's Notes: Yeah, yeah, I know, I'm jumping on the Daphne-and-Theo-have-a-daughter bandwagon =P Oh, well. I hope you guys liked Maddie (and the story as a whole, obviously)! Please do let me know your opinions on this via a review – I'd really love to know what you all think!**

**And please don't favorite without reviewing – it's **_**so**_** annoying. Thanks!**


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